War of Wrath
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: Back to Tolkien - or rather to my AU version of his myth. An account of the War of Wrath from both the Middle Earth and Valinorean sides. A plethora of AU OCs, so be warned!
1. The Star

Aerandir stared over his listener's shoulder, eyes bleak with memories. His voice tight with unshed tears. "Five days after the captain and his lady went ashore a - a Being appeared. I know not what else to call him. He had the likeness of an Elf but was far taller. Power shone about him and his eyes were terrible.

"He said: 'Earendil's ship bides here. But you may return to your Hither Shore. See, a ship is prepared for you.' and suddenly there was a small white boat there, knocking against Vingilote's side like a cygnet against its mother.

"Erellont let down the ladder and Falathur followed him. I asked: 'What of Captain Earendil and the Lady Elwing?'

"And the Being replied: 'They are no longer your concern. Their fate is sundered from that of Men.'" Aerandir's voice broke. "Orestel, what does that mean?"

"I know not." the other Man answered grimly. "Was that all he said?"

Aerandir nodded. "I dared not press him. I followed the others down into the boat and a wind from the west filled our sails, never failing till we were back in home waters." he wrung his hands. "I should have asked further, fear overwhelmed me. I should have asked for clearer tidings."

"No." the answer came quick and firm. "No, Aerandir. Earendil and Elwing knew very well the risk they were taking upon themselves. You did right to get your remaining Men home. Earendil would have expected no less of you."

"But what shall I say to their boys?" the mariner asked miserably.

"If they ask, what you have told me now. I will break the news to them." Orestel placed a kindly hand on the other Man's shoulder. "Go rest now, Aerandir. You and your fellows have done all they could."

Bleakly. "I never had much hope for our errand, but the captain would try."

"Nor I either. Earendil was half Elf, he had something of their faith in the Powers, misplaced as it proved. And he hoped to see Tuor and Idril again."

"We never found them. Or even news of them. Our Father alone knows where their bones lie." Aerandir looked pleadingly at the other Man. "Orestel, the captain and his lady, are they dead too?"

"I hope so." said Urin Orestel. He guided the Man to the door and watched Aerandir walk slowly away, shoulders slumped in weariness and defeat, across the bridges and walkways that united the houses of the Refuge, perched high on their piles above the mud and waters of the Lisgardh marshes.

Urin was tall, tall as his father Turin had been, but with the golden hair of Nienor, his mother, and of Hurin Thalion, her father and Turin's. Urin had been born doubly accursed; firstly by the taint of his unlawful begetting and secondly by the malice of Morgoth the Enemy. It had been his Doom to betray Men and the Elder kindred and serve Morgoth as his chief captain. But he had chosen otherwise and thus he stood now, a hale warrior of forty-three, golden hair somewhat tarnished, fair face marked with his hardships and many sorrows, captain-general of the Endless War and the hope of the Free Peoples. He turned and went in search of his fosterlings, the young sons of Earendil and Elwing.

-----

"They are dead." Elros said flatly, face as hard as young, unformed features could be.

"Are they?" Elrond asked, a note of pleading in his voice.

"I hope so." Urin said again.

Elrond's twilight grey eyes widened. "You hope?"

"There are far worse fates then the death that comes to us all." replied Urin, who knew them all.

Elros paled. "You mean they could be prisoners, or being tortured -"

"No." Urin's voice was firm. "Merciless the Valar may be, but not evil. And Ulmo and the Lady of the Flame are friends to Men. They would not let Elwing and Earendil suffer. No, I was wrong to doubt. Your parents are safe in the arms of Our Father. They sacrificed themselves for the sake of us all and now they are at peace."

"They died for nothing." Elros said bitterly.

"Their errand failed, but they were right to try. Valor is never for nothing, Elros."

Both boys nodded solemnly. Elros still angry, Elrond sad, but both tearless. Their parents were to them names and an idea rather then living presences. Earendil had sent out on his fruitless errand when they were but two years old. And even Elwing's memory had faded over the years between six and ten. It was the chance of ever knowing their father and mother rather then their parents themselves that Elros and Elrond mourned. It was Urin, who had known and loved his young cousins well, who truly grieved for them.

Nineth, Urin's wife, came upon them as they sat silent, each busy with his own thoughts, and swept both boys into a motherly embrace. Only then did lips quiver and eyes brim. Urin left them to her, taking his own heartache away to be nursed in privacy.

He poled his boat down the winding waterways of the Mouths of Sirion to the sea, then turned westward to land on the long mole of the ruined haven and sat himself on a broken post looking southward across the bay to Balar. "I should send word to Cirdan." he said into the silence. Then: "At least they were together."

Somewhere near here, perhaps on this very spot, Elwing had thrown herself and the Silmaril into the sea, rather then surrender it to the bloody handed sons of Feanor. That Urin was sure she would never have done so had she not been certain her sons were dead - and perhaps her husband too. "If only they could have known their boys live." he whispered. And his heart answered: 'They do now.' He closed his eyes and let the tears seep freely from beneath the lids.

Earendil and Elwing had done what they set out to do and made a far better end then Urin's own parents. It was no fault of theirs that the result had not been what they had hoped. Having expected nothing from the Lords of the West Urin was not disappointed. But it would be a bitter blow to the Noldor among his following - and to those on Balar.

"This world is full of sorrow, but beyond its walls is healing and peace in the arms of the Father." he said softly aloud. But what of the Elves? What of those poor souls bound to this world and cut off from knowledge of their Father? What would become of them now that those charged by Him with their care had cast them off? "We Men are not the Valar's to save or to betray, but the Elves are. Oh it is wicked, wicked to abandon them in their need, whatever their sins!"

Or could it be the Valar were afraid? Aerandir had described their defenses; shadowed seas, enchanted isles and finally a great mountain rampart cutting Valinor off from Middle Earth. Was Morgoth grown so great even his former peers were overmatched?

"Yet still they could try." Urin murmured to the setting sun. Then he smiled. "Forgive me, Bright Lady. Almost I forgot." Two allies at least they had among the Powers. Morgoth and his creatures feared the Flame of Anar reflected in the eyes of the sun. And the power of Ulmo in the running waters. The Lord of the Deeps and Ancala of the Flame did what they could in aid of Men and Elves. And there was Another beyond the circles of the world whose aid was mightier still.

The End was certain, but it was not yet, and in the meantime battle itself was a kind of victory. Then, in the sunset afterglow, Urin saw above the horizon a point of light, white and brilliant - and familiar.

-----

By the time he got back to the Refuge it was full dark with the new star blazing dazzlingly in the western sky. Nineth came running to meet him. "Urin, Urin, do you see?

The Elves are saying it is a Silmaril, Elwing's Silmaril!"

"They are right." unconsciously he flexed the hand seared and scared by hallowed gem. "No one who has seen that light can mistake it."

"But what does it mean?"

Urin could only shake his head. "Sweetheart I do not know. The minds of the Valar have ever been a closed book to me."

------

"It is a sign." said Cirdan. "A sign to us to hope on."

Urin smiled. "Have I not always said the same?"

"You have, Orestel," the Elven lord conceded, "but the hope of the Elves lies in the West."

Urin shook his head. "The hope of Men and Elves lies beyond the circles of the world with Eru, our Father."

"There is then one less life laid to our account." said the deep, musical voice of Maglor son of Feanor. Cirdan, Urin and young Gil-Galad, king of the remnant of the Noldor, all looked at him, a fair Elf darkened by an Oath unredeemed and the crimes committed in its name. His clear eyes, full of pain, were turned upward to the star. "I know, I know, little enough grace and undeserved. But I am glad that the glory of my father's craft may now be seen and shared by all, set on high and safe from all evil -" his face twisted indescribably, "Including my own!"

Silence fell over the four men on the terrace. They stood on the uppermost level of Cirdan's fair house on the naith of Balar, hanging gardens falling away below them to a foaming sea. Even this last embattled refuge the Elves had troubled to make beautiful. They had never been made or meant for war. Or to suffer as Maglor and his brother did. Urin, whose own soul had wrestled with the Dark and even now stood guard against it, could pity the sons of Feanor and even admire the courage that brought Maglor out to face the hatred of kin and kind while his brother brooded in hiding and their following sulked sullen at the easternmost end of the isle.

"But what do we do?" Gil-Galad asked almost forlornly. "What can we do?"

Urin shrugged, leaning against the railing of marble swans their graceful necks intertwined. "I mean to go on as I have begun, Lord. The sign was not meant for the likes of me."

Gil-Galad looked appealingly at Cirdan. He was less then two hundred years old and not yet come to his full stature of body or spirit. His life had been one long flight from refuge to refuge, the Enemy ever snapping at his heels. It was Urin's opinion that it would do the boy a world of good to strike back at his Foe. But he knew well that Cirdan was not minded to risk the last heir of Finwe in Middle Earth.

That was the trouble with Elves, he reflected idly, it was their nature to keep and preserve, not to put all to the touch, win or lose. It made them singularly unfit for Urin's kind of warfare. Even the valiant Sindar and Lindar preferred defense to attack.

"I would advise you to wait, my lord." Cirdan said, tactfully cloaking command with seeming deference. "Wait and see what this sign forebodes." and Gil-Galad, Urin knew, would not defy his guardian. Nor perhaps should he.

"All we do, my brother and I, turns to dross or worse." Maglor said with a bitter smile. "We will not risk poisoning this new hope - whatever it foretells."

-----

"You do not believe this sign foretells anything." Maglor said to Urin as they descended the long stair to the pier and their boats.

"No more then did the sun and the moon." he answered. "But you have made me think, Maglor. Covetice is at the root of all this evil. Giving the light of the Silmaril, the light of the Trees that are dead, to Middle Earth may be a greater thing then first I thought." the stair turned on an open air landing and Urin looked up again at the star. "It hints at a change, a great change in the minds of the Valar. Who knows, perhaps there are more wonders to come."

"I hope so." said Maglor.

"And hope is no small matter." said the Man who was called 'Hope' by his people.

"What hope can there be for Maedhros and me?" Maglor wondered. "But at least we will do no more evil. On that we are resolved."

A pity they had not done so many thousands of lives sooner! But late was better then never. "Beware of despair, Maglor." Urin warned. "It is a foul guide that leads to fouler deeds." he turned to a brighter subject. "The boys asked after you, as always."

The tortured face lightened. "They are well?"

"Growing like weeds, at Men's rate not Elves', but you would still recognize them. Maglor, now that you know you do not have their mother's blood on their hands will you see them?" The Elf hesitated. "Come, you're not that poisonous!"

"You think not? Well perhaps you are right. If they want me to come, I will."

"Good."

------

"He said he'd come, he gave his word?" Elrond asked anxiously for the ninth or tenth time, perched precariously on the prow of the boat, feet dabbling in the water

"He promised to meet us on the Haven's mole and he will keep his promise." Urin answered for the tenth or ninth time. "Now sit back, Elrond. If you fall in I am not going to fish you out!"

"Here," said his twin, "it's your turn to pole." the boat rocked as the boys changed places.

"I won't fish you out either, Elros." Urin warned. "If we overturn I mean to look to myself and no other."

Elros gave a little snort, leaning forward to paddle his hands in the water. "We won't need help, we can swim."

"All the way to the Haven?" Urin retorted.

Despite these alarms - and others - they reached their goal without anybody having to swim. "He's there! He's there!" Elros cried spotting two tall figures, one familiar, standing on the mole. He jigged in excitement, waving enthusiastically and the boat rocked in response. Urin forbore to remonstrate, intent on maneuvering up to the dock.

"Hold still or we will go over!" snapped Elrond, shipping his pole. Then: "Who's that with him?"

"Your kinsman and king, Ereinion Gil-Galad." answered Urin, somehow not surprised at all.

He lifted the boys onto the dock and they raced to the arms of their erstwhile captor and temporary guardian. Urin saw to securing the boat. Gil-Galad walked towards him, face determined and defensive.

"My Lord Urin, I am come to offer you my sword." He said formally.

"It will be most welcome." the Man replied promptly.

Gil-Galad breathed out in relief then smiled crookedly. "I am no runaway. Cirdan knows where I am. He does not approve." the young king's eyes strayed to Balar, green and gold on the horizon. "None of them do." he turned abruptly, almost angrily, back to Urin. "What use is there in the name of king when there is nothing left to be king of? What use is Gil-Galad if all he does is cower on an island awaiting the final blow? I have run all my life, Lord Urin, and by Manwe and Varda and all the other Vala I will run no more!" he slapped the hilt at his side. "I have here the sword of Finrod Felagund and I mean wield it against the Dark Lord as long as I have strength and life in me - as he did!"

"Well said!" Urin clapped a fatherly hand on the young king's shoulder. "And worthy of the heir of Fingolfin and Fingon and Felagund! My Noldor will welcome their king."

Gil-Galad blinked. "You have Noldor with you?"

Urin nodded somberly. "Many escaped thralls, forced to live as outlaws, have rallied to us. I must warn you, King, you will find them sadly changed, scarred and disfigured by their sufferings."

Gil-Galad swallowed, eyes showing apprehension. Beauty meant much to Elves and its absence was almost an offense. "I understand."

"Your acceptance of their fealty will do more to heal their spirits then any words of mine." Urin said, quick and warm, and smiled: "So you see there is some use after all in the name of king."

Finwe's heir squared his shoulders and lifted up his head. "I understand." he said again, this time without fear.

Good. Very good. Urin had always suspected great potential lay latent in the sheltered young Noldorin king. He had not been mistaken. His eyes went over Gil-Galad's shoulder to Maglor, approaching with a delighted boy hanging off each hand. "As for you, what now of your fear of meddling?"

Feanor's son smiled, the pain in his eyes eclipsed by a wry humor. "I did not meddle. I counseled neither for, nor against this choice of Gil-Galad's. I merely shared my boat with him. As you yourself said; even I am not so poisonous as that!"

Urin returned a smile as wry as Maglor's own then dropped his eyes to his fosterlings. "Elros, Elrond, make your bow to your king."

"I would rather have a kinsman's embrace." said Gil-Galad opening his arms.

-----

Note: Orestel (Quenya/Sindarin): 'Raise Hope' byname of Urin son of Turin.


	2. THe Host

Green shores, smooth as the dancing lawns of Nessa, rose gently from foamy strands to the deeper green of woodlands. Olorin, leaning on the rail of the white ship, looked at it in wonder. "This is a fair country."

"You sound surprised." said his friend Alatar.

"I am." Olorin admitted. "Foolishly no doubt. But I was expecting black land and overshadowing fumes, like Utumno of old."

"We will find lands dark enough as we go northward. But Melkor has not held these shores long enough - yet - to leave his mark upon them." Alatar answered. The two Maiar turned away from the rail moving towards the afterdeck where the master of their vessel stood beside the helmsman.

Both were well above the stature of Elves but Alatar was a head taller then his friend; dark of hair and eye, green and brown of raiment. A great bow, taller then a man, was slung over his shoulder and a horn hung at his side, for he was one of the Huntsmen of Orome and led the host of the Tavari, the wild Maiar of forest and fell.

Olorin's hair was long and pale with a moonlit sheen even under the full light of the sun, and his eyes were deep and blue like the waters of Lorellin, the lake of dreams, in the gardens of Lorien. And he was garbed all in grey for he was a servant of Lorien and of gentle Este, and was one of the chiefs of the healing Maiar sent to mend the hurts of Middle Earth, in so far as they might.

The master of their ship was a Teleri of the Swanhaven. He stood, legs braced well apart, swaying with the motion of his white ship. His dark hair flowed in the wind and his bright eyes were fixed on the distant shore.

"Ho, Captain," Alatar called up to him, "where do we land? this Isle of Balar?"

The Teleri shook his head. "No, Lord, we go to the Havens the Lady Elwing spoke of, or rather to whatever the Sons of Feanor have left of them."

"We must prepare ourselves for grim sights." said Olorin, who remembered only too well the ruin of Alqualonde with its dead lying bloodied and astonished in street and dock.

----

Sirillonde was rather sad to look upon; its fair houses now roofless and weathered shells. but if blood had stained its white streets it had been washed away by the spring and summer rains of many years. And of the bodies of the slain there was no sign.

The broken docks were insufficient for the harborage of the vast fleet bearing the Host and ships dropped anchor all along the white strands west of the city. East of it lay the winding waterways and soft green fens of the great river's mouths.

"Alatar, Olorin, come see!" called Kalrondo. The captain of the Champions of Tulkas, ruddy faced and golden haired, clad only in a kilt brazen mail, waved to them from the neighboring dock. Obeying his call they disembarked and came to stand beside him, all three staring down in surprise at a small boat, shallow of draft and square of prow, tied to the high pier.

"This has not lain here for all the years since the Haven was ravaged." said Kalrondo, stating the obvious as was his habit.

Alatar dropped into the boat, ran his hands over the smooth grey wood and looked up; "This is no Orc craft. Nor does it have the look of Elf work."

"The Second born then." Olorin guessed and looked over his shoulder at the ruined city. "But why come here?"

"No doubt Cirdan can tell us." said Kalrondo. "He has been sent for and we are bidden by Eonwe to council."

"Then let us go." said Alatar, springing back onto the dock.

Kalrondo led them into the city, towards the cracked and fire blackened dome of what had once been a great hall, similar in form - and no doubt function - to the vaulted feast hall of the Noldorin Kings in Tirion upon Tuna.

"It is strange to walk rather than be where one wills with the thought." Olorin remarked ruefully to his companions.

The Captain of Tulkas laughed at him. "So it is true what they say, that you have never clothed yourself in shape before?"

"It is true. I never saw the need." Olorin answered, grimaced. "I must say I find the limitations - onerous."

"At least that explains why none of us had seen you before the muster of the Host." said Alatar.

Olorin smiled a little. "Yet I have seen all of you when you came to Lorien for rest and healing."

"I call it discourteous not to have introduced yourself!" Kalrondo cut his amusement short as Alatar's head turned sharply. "What is it, Huntsman?"

"Nothing. I have but forgotten something on the ship. Go on, I will catch up with you." such were Alatar's words aloud, but mind to mind he said; 'There are eyes upon us, Brothers, lead them on while I circle behind.'

"A careless lot these huntsmen of Orome's" Kalrondo said loudly and cheerfully as he and Olorin continued onward. "Always forgetting something. I remember during the Wars -" a piercing shriek, near at hand, cut through his words like steel blade through flesh.

The two Maiar ran beneath a broken arch into a ruinous courtyard where they found their companion gripping a creature, small and frail and golden haired, which struggled wildly in his grasp all the while tearing the air with the high, thin screams of something young and terrified.

"There, child, there. We mean you no harm." Alatar was saying helplessly to his captive. His eye caught the healer's with a hint of desperation. "For Orome's sake and your Mistress', quiet her, Olorin!"

He knelt down but before he could even touch the creature, whose kind he could not quite see for she was moving so much, Olorin was struck, indeed almost flattened, by a wiry hurtling form. Others dodged between Kalrondo and Alatar, eluding their grasp and pulling the huntsman's captive free.

Struggling to his feet Olorin found himself facing a band of small but determined warriors circled protectively around a sobbing, golden haired child. Four boys, two dark with delicate Elven features, and two fair, their soft young faces fierce, all clutching long knives held at the ready.

The three Maiar stared at them, caught between wonder at the sight of creatures so fair and fresh in this place of old death. And of dismay at the fear and anger radiating from the boys and the sheer terror of the small, golden haired girl.

Kalrondo and Alatar both looked helplessly at Olorin, obviously it was for him, the healer, to reassure these children of the Children. "We mean you no harm -" he began, a little awkwardly and was promptly interrupted by one of the two Elven boys.

"Then why did he grab Lalie? he demanded aggressively. "She wasn't doing anything."

"I sensed we were being watched." Alatar answered. "I feared Orcs."

The taller of the fair haired boys snorted. "Orcs don't come here. They don't dare."

The Maiar exchanged another look, this one bewildered. "Does not Melkor dominate all of Middle Earth so his creatures may go where they will? Kalrondo asked.

"He wishes!" the Elven boy snorted. "Don't you know anything?"

"It would seem not." said Olorin. "According to the Dooms of Mandos all Middle Earth is in the hand of the Ruiner and Men and Elves are scattered and in hiding."

All four boys laughed contemptuously at this and even the small girl stopped her weeping to stare. "Well he's right about the hiding part anyway." the hitherto silent Elf child said to his brother.

"Don't the Valar know anything?" the fair haired boy asked again, voice full of scorn.

"How can they, hiding behind their mountain walls?" the first Elf-child answered him, then to Olorin. "Go back to the West, we don't want you here!"

"That we cannot." said Kalrondo. "We have our orders." then to his companions; "We should take them to Eonwe."

"No! we're not going anywhere with you." knives bristled.

"The body of our host lies between you and your boat." the champion pointed out reasonably. "What can you do but come with us?"

The boys bit their lips and the girl began to sob again.

"No harm will come to you." Olorin repeated. "But the captain general of our host will wish to hear what you can tell."

"After which he will send you home." added Alatar.

The boys exchanged looks. "I think we have to go." said the quieter of the two Elf-children.

The fair haired Man-children seemed disinclined to agree. But the other Elven boy, who seemed to be their leader, said; "Elrond's right, we've got no choice." then glared fiercely up at the Maiar. "But you're not touching Lalie!"

"We will not lay hand on any of you." Olorin said quickly.

Even so the little girl dripped tears of terror all the way to the hall and it was a thoroughly miserable trio of Maiar who finally delivered their captives into the presence of their peers.

All the captains of the Host were assembled beneath the broken dome: Eonwe himself, herald of Manwe, sat at their head, his great blue cloak studded with stars. To his right was bright Ilmare, chief handmaiden of Varda, all in white with twinkling jewels of adamant clustered upon her brow and scattered through her long pale hair. Makarion of the long spear, Captain of Ancala, sat on Eonwe's left hand. The light of Anar shone in his eyes, and his bright armor was etched with coiling flames. Beyond him was Lisinen, Lady of Sweet Waters, vassel of Ulmo crystals sparkling like drops of rain in her hair and scattered over her pale raiment. Then came Mahtan, Chief of the Craftsmen of Aule, broad of shoulder and stong of arm, his cuirass of steel studded with many jewels. And beside him was black clad Mornir, night dark herald of Mandos. An empty chair, intended for Alatar stood between the Doomsman's captain and fair Lea, vassal of Yavanna and Vana both, her green raiment sewn with living flowers. Then came Kalrondo's empty place, and Olorin's beside it, and finally, next to Ilmare, Estele the gentle servant of Nienna, with her clear eyes and a cloak of soft grey over a white gown.

Even the boys, who had kept up a good front hitherto, quailed before this assemblage and the little girl wailed aloud and cast herself upon the ground. Consternation rippled through the ranks of the Maiar but Lisinen sprang from her chair to gather the little ones in the circle of her arms. "Hush, hush. Do you not know me, surely the Children of Men have not forgotten Vidri?" The small girl stopped crying and nestled confidingly against Lisinen's breast. The boys regained their color and straightened their backs.

"Yes, Lady," said the Elf-child who seemed to be their spokesmen. "We remember you." words that would have surprised Lisinen's peers under other circumstances but now they were too relieved to question. The Lady of the Waters stood back, gathering the littlest of the children in her arms and holding her as the boys faced the ring of captains with renewed courage.

Olorin, Alatar and Kalrondo took their places. Eonwe cleared his throat. "Who is this you have brought us?"

"I am Elros son of Earendil." the Elven boy answered proudly. "And this is Elrond, my brother. And our kin; Hurin and Haleth and their sister Lalaith." he glared fiercely and with hatred at Manwe's herald. "You killed our father and mother!"

"What?" Eonwe cried in dismay. "No! No, child, that is not so. Both are alive and well in Aman though they may not return to this Hither Shore."

"One of you told Aerandir and the others that Father and Mother were no longer their concern. We thought that meant they were dead." said Elrond.

Eonwe shook his head. "No. That was I, and I meant only that they had chosen to be counted among Elves and were no longer of the race of Men."

Elros frowned. "I don't believe you."

"Then believe me." said Makarion with a smile.

Olorin, in his place across the circle, winced. the Lord of the Keen Edge was fearsome enough to the Elder Children. No doubt he would throw these youngsters into fits of terror. But he did not.

All five children's eyes turned to Makarion and they did not flinch nor look away from his brightness. Instead an answering light shone in their faces and the fair haired boy named Hurin breathed in wonder: "Somar?"

"Yes, it is I. And you know I do not lie." the five small heads, dark and fair, nodded. They knew this indeed - but how?

Elros turned back to Eonwe. "You could have spoken clearer!"

"I could have indeed." the herald answered heavily. "I wronged your father's companions and I wronged you, his sons. I am sorry."

The boy bowed formally. "I accept your apology on behalf of us all." he said. And all the children seemed to relax a little.

"Now then," Makarion said briskly, "where did you come from? Do you live here?"

"Oh no. Nobody's lived in Sirillond since the sack, but we like to come here sometimes to play. Our home lies in the fens." said Elros.

"Surely you do not live there alone?" said Lea in dismay.

"Of course not." Elros said scornfully. "We live with Uncle Urin and Aunt Nineth."

Mornir was startled into speech. "How can that be? Urin son of Turin is chief captain of Melkor!"

"He is not!" Hurin cried, and would have launched himself upon Mornir had not Elrond caught him by the cloak.

"Hurin, don't!"

"How dare you say that about our father!" shouted Haleth with clenched fists.

"You're the bad ones! All of you!!" shrieked his little sister.

"Such was the word of Mandos." Mornir insisted tactlessly.

"Then he's a liar!" Elros shouted back.

"Silence!" Eonwe thundered. The children subsided, breathing heavily. "Speak with due reverence of the Valar, Elros son of Earendil." he continued sternly.

"I don't care who he is. If he speaks ill of Uncle Urin he lies!" the boy answered defiantly.

There was a moment of silence. The assembled Maiar gazed nonplussed at the defiant children.

"It would seem," Makarion said mildly at last, "that all is not as we were told here in the Hither Lands."

"You can say that again." muttered Hurin son of Urin.

"The Dooms of Mandos are written in the Music" Mornir argued. "They cannot be wrong."

"And yet these little ones say that they are." Ilmare pointed out. "How are we to read this riddle?"

The children seethed but were held silent by Makarion's warning gaze. Lisinen cuddled Lalaith who muttered angrily into her bedewed robes.

This silence was broken by entrance of Eonwe's lieutenant Nornore. "My Lords, Cirdan is come."

An all but audibly sight of relief went through the Maiar. Now, at last, they would get some clear answers.

-----

Note: Olorin is, of course, Gandalf. Alatar will become one of the Blue Wizards. Except for them, and for Eonwe and Ilmare, all the Maiar Captains are mine rather then Tolkien's.

Ancala of the Flame is a Vala of my invention. She is keeper of 'Anar' the White Flame of Truth. Arien, the sun, was her handmaiden.


	3. The Refuge

The five children made a concerted rush for the Lord of Balar the moment he set foot over the threshold.

"Lord Cirdan, they say father and mother aren't dead!" Elrond cried.

"Tell them Uncle is good, they won't believe us!" Added his brother.

"You've got to set them straight -" began Haleth

"They've got everything wrong way round!" Hurin finished

"Make them go away!" said Lalaith with a venomous look over her shoulder at the watching Maiar.

Cirdan knelt to put himself on level with the indignant little ones, a look of understandable bewilderment on his face. "Gently, children, gently. What are you doing here?"

"He -" Hurin pointed rudely at Alatar, "grabbed Lalie. And then they made us come here and now they're insulting Father!"

"And our mother and father are alive but THEY won't let them come home to us." added Elrond.

"Which isn't fair." said his twin.

"What are they doing here anyway?" asked Haleth.

"Go away!" Lalaith shouted at the Maiar, holding firmly to Cirdan's mantle for courage. Then graciously to Lisinen. "You can stay, Vidri, - and Somar - but we don't want the rest of you!"

The Captains of the Host exchanged discomfited looks. This was not at all the sort of reception they had anticipated from the beleaguered denizens of Middle Earth!

"Are these the manners of a daughter of Hador and a Lady of the Haladin?" Cirdan demanded of her. "Where is your courtesy, little one?"

She hung her head, then leaned close to whisper - all too audibly: "But I don't like them. They scare me."

"I am sure the Lords of the West meant neither to frighten nor to insult." Cirdan replied, climbing to his feet. "Leave this to me, my young lords and lady," he beckoned one of his attendants nearer. "Go with Flinding now and when I am finished here I will take you home."

A somewhat bemused Nornore closed the door behind the children. Cirdan collected himself and bowed to the assembled Captains. "My Lords you have summoned me. I am here at your command."

"And it would seem we have greater need of your council then we thought." Eonwe said wryly. "Before we departed the Nether Shore the Lord Mandos revealed to us the dooms that were to have befallen here in Middle Earth -"

"Dooms written into the Music and so inalterable." interrupted Mornir, clearly annoyed at having his master's word called into question.

"Yet according to these same dooms, Urin son of Turin should now be chief captain of Morgoth and our most dangerous foe." said Ilmare. "Yet these children claim it is not so."

"Nor is it." Cirdan said promptly. "Though I can well believe such was his fate for I knew him as a boy and the Shadow lay heavy upon him. None of us foresaw anything but darkness in his future, accursed as he was by both his parent's deed and Morgoth's malice. When Urin remade his father's sword and left us in his nineteenth year Tuor told me, grieving, that the best he hoped for him was a clean death - and I agreed. Yet he and I both feared even such a doom as Lord Mandos spoke."

"But it is not so." said Ilmare.

"No." Cirdan shook his head in wonder. "I did not lay eyes on Urin again for many years. Not until after the fall of the Haven when he came seeking for news of his kin. And he was changed; the shadow of doom had fallen from him and he was as a vessel of light. How this can be I do not know but Lord Mandos spoke wrong. Urin is not Morgoth's captain but ours. And his people and mine both call him 'hope' for our hope he is, and a light to guide us in a dark world."

There was a silence. Impossible to doubt Cirdan's word. And yet even more impossible that the Doomsman should be wrong!

-----

Flinding ushered the children into a side room where stood a table spread with fruit and cakes and sweetmeats that most agreeably distracted their minds from their confrontation with the Powers. But they did not entirely drop their guard, not even with a friend to watch over them, wheeling around, small faces shut and forbidding, when a strange Elf appeared in the doorway.

He was very tall with long golden hair falling over a robe and mantle blue as the sea and all a-shimmer with stars of crystal and pearl. He checked, as if taken aback by his reception, bright eyes fixed on the children.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said, "but I was told I have kin here. I am Arafinwe, son of Finwe, brother of Nolofinwe who was High King in these Hither Lands -"

He got no farther. "King Fingolfin you mean?" Elros interrupted. "He was our great-great grandfather, Elrond's and mine. And you - you must be Finarfin, King Finrod's Father!"

Instantly all five small faces lit up in welcome, the father of Finrod Felagund couldn't be anything but a friend, then fell almost as suddenly as they realized they had only bad news to give him of his kin.

Finarfin smiled sadly but reassuringly. "Earendil told me of my brother's fate; and my nephews' and my sons'."

"You spoke with our father?" Elrond asked eagerly.

"They were very, very brave, all of them." Elros said earnestly. "Our people - mortal Men - loved them well. If we could have saved them we would have."

"Hurin and Huor did save Turgon - for a while anyway." said Hurin the younger.

"And King Finrod died for a Man, for Beren our other great grandfather." said Elrond earnestly. "We will never forget that. Ever!"

Hurin nodded. "The high kings were good to us - but King Finrod was our friend from the very beginning. He was special."

And little Lalaith tugged at Finarfin's robe with her sticky fingers and when he bent down to her gave him an equally sticky kiss and shining smile. "You can stay too."

-----

"I am not in my Lord Urin's councils." Cirdan was explaining. "We Elves of Balar, Teleri and Noldor alike, have now no part in the war."

"War?" Kalrondo interrupted. "We were told all resistance was ended and Morgoth ruled unopposed."

Cirdan smiled wryly. "With respect, Lord, that is not so. I know Urin has Men in the North for from time to time he has begged ships of me to carry them to Losgar. I know the Men of Dor-Lomin no longer serve the Shadow; that Morgoth holds neither Tol Sirion nor Himring and that Nargothrond has been reoccupied. I know," he continued quietly, "that Urin has suffered both defeat and betrayal and remained undismayed. And that he will fight on whatever haps. And that his people, and ours - and even I - would follow him into Angband itself should he ask it - " a smile flashed. " as he might!"

The Maiar absorbed this in baffled silence, finally broken by Eonwe. "I thank you, Cirdan. You have given us much to think on. Leave us now and take your young friends home."

The Elf bowed and withdrew.

"This is impossible!" Mornir declared the moment he was gone. "Doom cannot be unsaid, the Music cannot be changed!"

"And yet it would seem that it has been, "said Olorin, "or do you think Cirdan lies?"

"Of course not! Yet is not Morgoth the master of lies?"

"That he is." said Makarion, Lord of Truth, grimly.

Eonwe turned to him. "Which raises another matter. How is it the Second Children know you and our kinswoman here." waving towards Lisinen. "How comes it that they have names for you?"

"They know us because we have walked among them." was the calm answer. "While the rest of the Powers gave all their thought and labor towards the fortifying of Valinor my Lady and Lisinen's Lord sent us forth to seek out the Secondborn and protect them if we could."

"We found them too late." the Lady of the Sweet Waters said sadly. "Morgoth was before us and had terrified them into submission."

"But they hated as much as they feared." continued Makarion. "And we found many willing to resist." he leaned forward. "And I will tell you something else, my brothers, Eru speaks to these Second Children of His. They can hear His Voice as we have lost the power to, all but Manwe, and as the Elves never could." The other Maiar exchanged looks of disbelief and consternation as he continued. "Think on what that might mean, my brothers. That and the fact they depart the Circles of the World after a brief span here. Visitors are they to Arda, dwelling in it but not belonging to it. Why should they be ruled by the Music?"

"Cirdan's story suggests far more," said Olorin quietly, "that not only are they not bound by the Music, which is as fate to us all, but that they can change it!"

"You go too far!" Mornir protested.

"And yet it would seem that this Urin has not only changed his own destiny but altered the fate of Middle Earth." said Alatar.

"Or it is all a deception of the Enemy!" snapped Mornir.

"We must see this Man and judge him for ourselves." said Eonwe. "According to the children he lives in the Lisgardh fens. We will send for him."

------

Lalaith was sitting in Finarfin's lap, eating sweetened pears and happily dripping honey all over him as well as herself. The boys were clustered at his feet.

"Gil-Galad is safe and well but he's in Nargothrond, some ways from here." Elros was saying as Cirdan entered.

"That is so." the Ship-Master said dryly, smiled and shrugged. "I advised against it but he is a true scion of the House of Finwe -"

"- Stubborn and set on his own will." Finarfin finished for him.

"I would have said courageous and high-hearted." Cirdan corrected respectfully but with a twinkle in his eye.

"A courteous way of saying much the same thing." smiled Finarfin.

Cirdan returned the smile and did not argue.

"Did you set them straight about Father?" Hurin asked.

"I did. And now it is high time you children were home. The Lady Nineth may be growing concerned."

Hurin gave Elros a worried look. "She could be. The watchers will have told her about the fleet."

"And she'll have guessed where we went." the other boy agreed as they all got to their feet.

Finarfin rose too, setting little Lalaith down. "I will accompany you with your permission. I will need a guide to Nargothrond."

"And I too, if I may." said an apologetic voice from the doorway. All turned to see Olorin standing there. "I am sent to ask the Lord Urin to attend our councils."

"But Father isn't home either!" said Haleth. making matters much more complicated.

-----

Thus it was that quite a large company returned to the Refuge with the children. Finarfin looked with some dismay at the wooden houses on their piles and the bridges of rope and plank that linked them. The place seemed unspeakably squalid and mean to a Prince of the Noldor accustomed to the glories of Valimar and Elven Tirion. Then suddenly dozens of small people, dark and brown and golden fair, erupted from hut and boat to cluster staring with bright eyes at a safe distance from the dock. He caught his breath in mingled wonder and astonishment. Few children had been born in Tirion or Alqualonde since the Troubles, that there should be so many, and so fair, under the very Shadow of Morgoth was both bewildering and disturbing.

Adults appeared. Men armed with sword or spear, varying much in coloring and feature but alike in the grimness of their expressions, circled the party as they disembarked. Then the ring opened to admit a Woman, very small by Elven standards but fair of face with braided hair of a light, almost golden, brown.

Cirdan bowed to her. "I bring back your strays, my Lady Nineth. And these Lords of the Western Host."

"The West?" Nineth echoed as her children clustered around her skirts. Then on a distinct note of disbelief: "You mean the Valar have come?"

Olorin cleared his throat. "The Valar have heard the prayer of Earendil, who I understand is a kinsman of yours, Lady, and sent this Host to free Middle Earth of Morgoth."

"Well late is better then never." one man remarked to another, in a low voice but one meant to be heard. A ripple of grim amusement went through his fellows.

"A strong ally will be most welcome." Nineth said formally.

High Elves and Maiar exchanged bemused looks. Ally?

"I am Olorin of Lorien." the Healer continued. "And this is Alatar the Huntsman. We have been sent by the Captains of the Host to seek the council of the Lord Urin, who Cirdan tells us is your Captain General."

"I'm sorry but my husband is from home." the Lady replied.

"We know." said Alatar. "We hoped that you would be willing to furnish us with guides that we might find him and see also what you have accomplished in the north." that went over rather well.

"This," said Cirdan, "is King Arafinwe, who we call Finarfin -" and the Lady's face and the Men's lit up just as the children's had.

"King Finrod's father?" Nineth cried and gave him a beaming smile. "You are most welcome, most welcome, my Lord." the smile faded. "But I fear -"

"I know my sons are dead." Finarfin said quickly. "But I would seek out my son's grandson."

"He means King Gil-Galad, Mother." Elros explained.

"I guessed that much." she answered. Then warmly to Finarfin: "Of course you would. He's at Nargothrond, And you may catch Urin there as well if you hurry. Is tomorrow be too soon for you?"

"Not at all." he answered, turned to the High Elves with him. "This is the Prince Vronwe of the Vanyar and the Lord Artamo, who are also seeking kin."

"I hear I too have a grandchild, Fanuilos, but she dwells in Dorthonion." said Vronwe.

"That's right. Her son, Dagnir Mor, is our captain there." said Nineth.

"And I," Artamo said heavily, "have been unable to learn any news of my son either from Earendil or from the Exiles on Balar."

"Oh, I am sorry!" Nineth said with unmistakable sincerity.

The Noldorin Lord managed a faint smile. "His name in Aman was Artaresto, but I am told he would have taken another here which I do not know and none can tell me."

Nineth hesitated, then said gently: "It is possible he never made it to Middle Earth or was slain in the first battles."

"That is what I fear." Artamo said sadly. "But I would ask among your allies, to be sure."

"I understand." she answered warmly with a smile of such kindness and sympathy that Artamo could not help but return it.


End file.
